


All of Your Ways

by Tangela



Series: It's Ineffable [6]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crying, Cunnilingus, F/M, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Genderfluid Character, Other, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, This is so soft and not at all soft at the same time my dudes, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 00:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangela/pseuds/Tangela
Summary: Aziraphale adores Crowley in whatever form he chooses to present.





	All of Your Ways

**Author's Note:**

> I've been dying to write something with Nanny Ashtoreth for months now.
> 
> Please note that since Crowley goes between presenting as himself and Ashtoreth throughout the fic, his pronouns will change accordingly.

Of all the things that Aziraphale had been through during his very long time on Earth, helping to raise the Antichrist had never struck him as a possibility. But Crowley was right, they should both step in, keep things in check, and show their respective departments that they were, in fact, competent at their jobs.

And so the plan was that the Dowlings would miraculously be in need of two new employees, and Aziraphale and Crowley would just so happen to be perfect for those roles.

“I’ll be the nanny,” Crowley said after his third glass of wine, sprawled out in a chair in Aziraphale’s living room one evening.

Aziraphale frowned at him. “Wouldn’t gardening suit you better?”

“Don’t think they’d appreciate me roaring and shouting at their gardens at all hours of the day, do you?”

He had a point there.

“Couldn’t you just...not do that, dear?” Aziraphale suggested.

Crowley gave him a look that could quite possibly kill the dead, and he quickly changed the subject.

“I’ll be the gardener, then,” he said. “Then at least you can teach me how everything works.”

Crowley seemed sated by that.

They’d said no more about it, and for the time being, Aziraphale had put it to the back of his mind, focusing on his usual routine until the time came.

So, of course, he was hardly expecting the visitor he received one evening while he tidying up the shop, after a long day of trying not to sell any of his precious books.

“I’m so sorry, dear, but we’re clo-“

The rest of the word suddenly became caught in Aziraphale’s throat when he realised that the woman standing in front of him was none other than Crowley.

“Oh, it’s you,” he managed weakly after an awkward pause of silence.

Crowley’s eyebrow rose to a perfect arch.

“I didn’t spend twenty minutes fighting with the seams of my stockings for such a lukewarm response, angel,” she said, standing with her arms outstretched to show off the entire outfit. “What do you think?”

Aziraphale’s throat was dry. There was no way Crowley could expect to be handed the job as nanny to the Antichrist dressed like _that_, demon or not. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with how she was dressed. In fact, she was quite professional-looking in her button-down blouse and knee-length skirt. But even so...The way it all seemed to cling so perfectly to every curve of her body...Well, there had to be _some_ demonic intervention involved. That, or Crowley had an incredible tailor that Aziraphale was definitely going to need the number of.

“Well?” Crowley prompted, her perfectly painted mouth curving into a slight frown.

It was only then that Aziraphale even realised that she had been standing there the entire time, waiting for a response while he...Well, best not to keep her any longer.

“You do...You do look lovely, dear,” he said at last.

If his voice grew any weaker, it was going to disappear altogether. A fact that had not entirely passed Crowley by.

“If it helps, I can...” she trailed off, turning around slowly enough to let Aziraphale take in every inch of her.

“That’s quite alright, I’ve gotten the idea,” Aziraphale said a little too fast just as Crowley was turning to face him again.

“If you don’t like it, angel, you can just say,” she snapped, and Aziraphale noticed the little impatient hiss slipping through.

“No, no, it’s not that- It’s- Well-“ he stammered, desperate to make sure that Crowley wasn’t offended without embarrassing himself.

Crowley took her glasses off to look at him properly, and then she smiled.

Too late.

“You _like_ this, don’t you?” she asked softly, one perfectly manicured hand now resting on her hip.

“Well, yes, of course I do, you obviously spent a lot of...time...on all of...this.”

Aziraphale’s mouth practically snapped shut as Crowley began to walk over to him. He’d always thought there was something rather sinful in the way Crowley’s hips moved, even when he wasn’t even trying to be, but now..._Lord_.

She mercifully stopped at the counter, but even then, with all that space between them, Aziraphale felt trapped. Boxed in by the mere presence of her. He couldn’t honestly say that he minded one bit. And perhaps therein lay the problem. He was an angel. A principality, in fact. He was supposed to be above such baser desires. Blame the vessel, that’s what he’d done in the past. It wouldn’t have been the first time either, on those lonely nights when Crowley was long gone and Aziraphale lay in bed with enough wine in him to kill a mortal.

It was always the vessel’s fault. He couldn’t help how it reacted. And besides, Crowley was a demon, that was what he wanted, Aziraphale would try to convince himself.

Of course, it all became a lot more complicated as time went by. They found themselves spending more and more time together, first by mere coincidence, then by choice. Immortality was a lonely business, and Crowley was good company. And then there was the small matter of the fact that Crowley had saved him more times than he could bear to think about.

It was only a matter of time that they both gave in to the temptation of each other. The sudden feeling of love that Aziraphale could feel pouring from Crowley was overwhelming, but he dared not say anything about it, for fear of scaring him away. But every time, he felt it. He wasn’t sure what that made them. The humans had a funny expression: “friends with benefits”. He supposed that was apt enough.

“Your lipstick’s smudged,” Aziraphale said. He placed the tip of his finger on the edge of his mouth, in a mirror of Crowley. “Just there.”

Crowley tilted her head. “Fix it for me, will you, angel?”

Aziraphale went to reach for the handkerchief tucked neatly into the pocket of his waistcoat when Crowley grabbed his wrist, raising his hand to her mouth.

Aziraphale was starting to think that Crowley wanted to discorporate him. Still, best not to show weakness. He gently rubbed the little spot from Crowley’s mouth.

Before he could remove his hand, Crowley’s grip tightened, ever so slightly, as she ran her tongue along Aziraphale’s finger, amber eyes watching him the entire time.

For the first time in a long time, Aziraphale was aware of his vessel’s unconscious effort to breathe, as no air seemed to be making its way into his lungs at all.

“You’re incorrigible,” he admonished rather weakly.

Crowley had the audacity to wink at him.

“What’s wrong, angel?” she asked, her voice a soft purr as she rounded the counter to stand next to him. “You’re not having impure thoughts about me, are you?”

She had Aziraphale backed against the proverbial wall now. He couldn’t bring himself to lie - dreadful thing, lying - but he certainly couldn’t tell her the truth either. He decided to try the space in-between.

“I just wasn’t expecting...this,” he said with a vague wave of his hand in Crowley’s direction. “It’s been a while since you’ve presented like this.”

“1828,” Crowley said, a small smile playing on her lips. “Funny, I remember you reacting almost exactly the same.”

Aziraphale remembered it well. They’d attended a dinner party, having been assigned to the same person, a field marshal in the British Army. Aziraphale’s job was to convince him to agree to a peace treaty to stop yet another war, whereas Crowley’s job was to tempt him into deciding that all Hell breaking loose would, in fact, be a good idea.

Aziraphale had dressed as smartly as always, in a suit completely fitting for a dinner party. He’d expected Crowley in something similar in black, as was their usual way. When he arrived, Crowley was nowhere to be found. Demons were very fond of being fashionably late, and Aziraphale thought nothing of it. Nor did he give the woman who had just entered a second look at first.

“Mr. Fell, how nice to see you again.”

It took nothing short of a miracle to stop Aziraphale from dropping his glass of sherry all down his front. It was Crowley, but not quite as Aziraphale had ever seen him.

“Crow-“

“_Ms._ Crowley,” she corrected with a wicked smile, holding her hand out. “Really, Mr. Fell, have you no manners at all?”

Aziraphale took her hand in his, briefly pressing it to his lips, before allowing himself a moment to take her in. She was dressed in the height of fashion, as Crowley always was, wearing a long gown, cinched in to show off her slight waist, the sleeves of which sat at the very edges of her shoulders, exposing her expanse of neck and collarbone, and her arms were covered with long satin gloves. Her vibrant hair was twisted up into an elaborate style that had to have taken some demonic intervention to make it sit as perfectly as it currently did.

“Darling, it’s completely inappropriate to stare at a woman like _that_ if you aren’t at least going to court her,” Crowley said with a laugh.

Aziraphale swallowed, desperately trying to gather his wits.

“I’m sorry, dear, you’ve rather taken me off-guard,” he admitted, remembering at last to let go of Crowley’s hand. “You look wonderful.”

The night gradually became easier in some ways, and much harder in others. Aziraphale found himself falling back into their routine with hardly any effort, and it was as if they had never left each other’s sides. In the beginning, this had always worried him - one really shouldn’t feel so at ease in the presence of a demon - but once he’d realised that Crowley had no real interest in hurting him, that fear soon disappeared.

Neither of them did manage to complete their respective missions, but nothing was said of it by Heaven or Hell, as nothing good or bad had come from the situation.

She looked just as beautiful now as she had then.

“We really shouldn’t,” Aziraphale murmured, and at this point it was more out of habit than actual real desire to stop.

“When was the last time you said that and meant it?” Crowley asked teasingly, but she paused for a moment anyway.

Aziraphale huffed, but he couldn’t stop the smile from pulling at the corners of his mouth. He leaned in, his hands on either side of Crowley’s jaw, careful not to ruin her hair, and kissed her. Crowley kissed him back just as readily, taking his hands in hers and placing them on her hips. Aziraphale’s fingers trailed along the seams of her skirt, and when he was quite sure that Crowley wouldn’t stop him, his hands ran lower, finding the hem and sliding underneath it. His fingers ran the length of the tops of her stockings onto her bare skin, running higher and higher until Crowley gasped against his mouth.

“Now who’s incorrigible?” she murmured, pulling back to look at Aziraphale in mock disapproval.

“Tell me that you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” Aziraphale replied just as softly, warm eyes searching hers.

Crowley responded by pulling her skirt out of Aziraphale’s way. Aziraphale pressed a line of soft kisses to Crowley’s neck as his hand continued exploring her, alternating between hard strokes and light touches until she was breathless.

“‘Ziraphale,” she gasped.

“Yes, darling?” he asked, not once letting up.

Crowley pressed herself closer, grinding against Aziraphale’s hand.

“Need more,” was all she could manage.

“We can go upstairs-“

Crowley shook her head, her perfect curls starting to fall loose across her face.

“Here. Now. Please, angel,” she whispered.

Angel or not, what kind of person would Aziraphale be if he said no to such a polite request?

“As you wish, dear,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her lips before dropping to his knees in front of her. Crowley’s eyes widened as she watched him, leaning back to ground herself against the counter.

Aziraphale pressed lines of kisses along Crowley’s inner thighs, earning a yelp and a badly aimed swat to the shoulder when his teeth nipped at her skin.

“Angel-” she gasped.

Aziraphale took it as incentive to do it again, and instead of hitting him again, she curled her fingers into his hair, as if to try and direct him to where she really wanted his mouth to go. Aziraphale had never been one for teasing – never had the heart to try – and so he did what she wanted, gently pushing her underwear to one side so as not to rip them, and licking a long line against her. Her grip on his hair only tightened as his tongue dragged against her clit, her breaths sharp and shallow. Aziraphale moved his mouth steadily against her, eager to pull more of those little gasps and moans from her. He moved a hand along her trembling thigh, pressing one finger into her, then another.

It was a wonder that Crowley could even stand at this point, her legs were shaking so badly. She moved her hips against Aziraphale’s fingers and tongue, until she was almost doing all the work for him.

“Aziraphale-” was all the warning she could manage before she came, dragging her nails against Aziraphale’s skin as she desperately tried to hold herself up.

Aziraphale gently removed his fingers from her, letting her clutch at him as he stood up. He barely had the chance to clean himself up when she was on him, kissing him as if her very existence depended on it. Her hand ran down between them, stopping at the button of his trousers. Aziraphale groaned into her mouth. Crowley’s deft fingers made short work of his button and zip, and Aziraphale had to grab her wrist before she could go any further.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Aziraphale shook his head. “Nothing, dear, it’s just- Well, watching you unravel like that was quite enough foreplay for me, thank you very much.”

Crowley grinned. “Oh, well, in that case…”

She turned around, pushing her underwear down and her skirt up before leaning over the counter. She looked over her shoulder at Aziraphale, who was certain that his vessel’s heart was about to give up entirely.

“You truly are shameless,” he chided.

“If you’re really that against it-”

Crowley was abruptly interrupted by Aziraphale freeing himself from his trousers and pushing into her. His hands gripped her hips, nails scratching the delicate skin. He hadn’t felt this pent up in a long time, and he was finding it harder and harder to maintain any kind of control over himself.

“’m not a doll, angel, I won’t break if you’re a little rough with me,” Crowley said in a shaky breath.

Sometimes Aziraphale wondered if Crowley knew him better than he knew himself. He pressed harder into her, one hand moving along her back to bury itself in her hair.

“Heavens, you feel wonderful,” Aziraphale sighed, and he immediately felt Crowley tense against him.

He decided to try his luck again.

“You do. Absolutely divine, even.”

He fucked into her, slowly at first, then gradually picking up the pace.

“Perfect little thing that you are.”

He heard a sniffle, and stopped.

“Crowley? Are you all right?” he asked, panic beginning to well up inside of him.

Crowley shook her head, pressing herself back against him.

“’m fine,” she said, and Aziraphale could tell by her voice that she was crying. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He wanted to stop, find out what was wrong, but if she’d wanted to stop, she only had to say. And she’d made it perfectly clear that she didn’t.

“I don’t think I tell you enough just how beautiful you are, darling,” Aziraphale said, as he found his rhythm again.

“Then tell me,” Crowley replied, soft moans gradually growing louder. “Please.”

“I’ve always thought so, right from the very first moment I saw you.”

Crowley was gradually growing more and more desperate, and Aziraphale wasn’t faring much better either. He slid a hand down between her legs, rubbing circles against her clit as he fucked into her.

"I could never see you as anything else, dear, even if I wanted to. Far too much work was put into you.”

With a cry, Crowley was gone, the spasms of her body pushing Aziraphale over the edge not long after. She slumped against the counter, her hair in complete disarray as she tried to catch her breath. Aziraphale tidied them both up as best he could, giving her a moment to collect herself. He knew that she needed it.

“Crowley?” he said after a time.

It took her a moment, but eventually Crowley righted herself, fixing her rumpled blouse. She pushed her hair from her eyes, and the mascara tracks on her cheeks told Aziraphale what he’d known all along.

“I-”

“Don’t, angel,” Crowley murmured. “You don’t have to explain yourself, or apologise. You didn’t push me too far, or say anything wrong.”

Aziraphale wanted to argue anyway, but he had to trust Crowley. She had stopped lying to him a long time ago.

“Alright,” he said, and Crowley managed a smile. “But really, I should apologise for the state of your poor skirt.

Crowley laughed. “Did you really think I was gonna wear _that_ to look after a child? Really, angel, do you hear yourself? Nah, I’ve got something far more modest at home.”

Aziraphale scowled. “So you knew what you were doing the moment you came in here dressed like that!”

“Did you not enjoy yourself?” Crowley asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then no harm done.”

Aziraphale huffed a sigh, but said no more. Crowley always did manage to have the last word in their arguments, even if it took years for him to get it. It was maddening.

“About what you said…” she started, looking everywhere but at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale placed a hand on either side of her face, gently forcing her to look at him.

“I meant every word, darling,” he murmured against her lips before kissing her again.

And he did. As long as it was Crowley, no matter the shape or form, he always would.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you think ethereal/occult beings can simultaneously orgasm? I think so.
> 
> I hope this reads okay, I'm pretty sick at the minute and have no beta reader. Also if anyone is interested in how the scene in 1828 played out, let me know! I'm thinking of writing it.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
